


real for you

by bluelines



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelines/pseuds/bluelines
Summary: sometimes people find their way back to each other.





	real for you

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this before the rivalry series, so i guess AU where team usa didn't have all their controllers disconnected during today's game.

She’s drunk. She’s drunk and she shouldn’t be calling anyone, and she definitely shouldn’t be calling Kacey, who she has to see in three days, who is less than a mile away, probably. 

But she is. 

And Kacey picks up. It’s the last ring before her voicemail; Marie used to count them. 

“Hello?”

Marie can tell from the tone of Kacey’s voice that she knows who she’s talking to. 

“I thought you’d delete my number,” she says. Kacey is silent for a long time. When she speaks again her voice is soft, but not as hurt as Marie expected. 

“I know your number,” Kacey says. 

Now it’s Marie’s turn to be quiet. She imagines Kacey in her hotel room, or out on the balcony. She hopes it’s not that—it’s cold. She wonders if Kacey has called that girl today. She must have. It wouldn’t be like Kacey not to call the girl she’s seeing on Valentine’s day, and now Marie is thinking too much about that, about the flowers Kacey probably sent, and the poem that’s probably attached. 

“What did you want?” Kacey asks, and to her credit it’s not as scathing as it probably should be. 

“Do you miss me?” Marie asks, and hates herself a little more, almost enough to hang up. She wants to apologize immediately but she’s afraid if she opens her mouth again she’ll throw up. 

“That’s not fair,” Kacey says. It’s the tone of her voice that sets Marie off crying. She doesn’t sound mad at all. She sounds like she always did when she was trying to reason with Marie in mid-panic, like she’s talking to a little kid, like she’s unbothered. What’s worse is that she’s right—it’s not fair. 

“I’m sorry,” Marie says, but she’s crying because she’s mad, too, because Kacey is being too nice. That’s what makes her lash out again. 

“I shouldn’t have called you,” Marie continues, “I don’t want to interfere with your—your girlfriend.”

“What was the point of this?” Kacey asks, “are you drunk?” As if she can’t tell. 

“You deleted that story,” Marie says, “but I saw it.”

“I didn’t delete it for you,” Kacey says, but she’s lying and Marie can tell, her voice lilts up nervously when she does. 

“You dumped me,” Kacey says, “you don’t get to be upset that I’m seeing someone.”

So she is. That’s what Marie wanted, really, confirmation one way or the other. She has to cover her mouth with her hand, and she senses it when Kacey realizes she’s crying. 

“You’re drunk,” Kacey says again, “you shouldn’t have called me.”

“You shouldn’t have picked up,” Marie says, “you have a girlfriend.”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Kacey says, “I don’t think you should call me again.”

“I fucked up,” Marie blurts, “I fucked us up, we were good and I—I’m sorry. I guess that’s why I called.”

Kacey is quiet for so long that Marie thinks she’s hung up. When she speaks again Marie can hear the tears in her voice and it feels like Marie’s chest has caved in on itself. 

“Go to bed,” Kacey says. 

“I’m sorry,” Marie says again. And then the click. 

She listens to nothing for thirty seconds before she takes her phone away from her ear. 

-

They lose the last game. It hardly registers, anymore, losing to Kacey. They’re quiet in the locker room after, waiting for her to say something, and it’s her last chance before they start to ramp up for World’s and she feels rudderless, like she’s out of control, and can’t control anything else. 

“We need to be better,” she says simply. “It’s not enough, what we gave tonight. It’s an exhibition today, tomorrow it’s a gold medal game. We have to give everything to the game every time or it’s going to be like this.”

Nobody says anything. Nobody will even look at her. 

“They’re not better than us,” she says, “they’re just giving more.”

That’s it. Nobody talks to her, though they do murmur amongst themselves as they get undressed and shower. She’s quick because she knows enough to know they need to be alone without her, to digest and talk about what she said without her around, and because she needs to go. But she doesn’t want to be alone. She wishes she didn’t feel like she had to be. 

Kacey is standing outside the rink, behind it, where the buses wait. Marie assumes she’s waiting for someone else and pulls her beanie down a bit, aiming for her own bus. Kacey is probably waiting for family, realistically. 

“Hey,” Kacey says, and Marie stops dead in her tracks although half of her wants to pretend she didn’t hear. She’s already burning with embarrassment before she turns around, praying Kacey won’t bring up Valentine’s Day and knowing better already. 

“Do you remember calling me,” Kacey says, or were you that drunk?”

No fucking around. Marie can’t read Kacey’s facial expression, and that’s new, too. She looks worried, but there’s something else behind it. Before, when they were fighting, she used to shrink, like she was trying to hide from it. Marie feels powerless in front of Kacey and realizes it’s the first time. All this time she had the power in her hands to hurt Kacey, and now she doesn’t. She feels naked. And like she deserves it. 

“I remember,” Marie says. “And I remember apologizing.”

“For calling me,” Kacey says, “that’s all. Right?”

No. 

Marie doesn’t say it. She looks at her feet. She knows what Kacey’s asking, and she’s not sure she’s brave enough to answer. She’s probably ruined Kacey’s relationship regardless, but if she says yes, and walks away, she doesn’t have to know, and maybe Kacey will forget about it and go back to her life the way it was three days ago. 

She doesn’t want to say yes. She wants to say no, there’s more. There’s always more to say. 

“Marie,” Kacey says, “I need to know. To understand what’s going on. Give me that, at least.”

“No,” Marie blurts. It’s like jumping into a lake. Her face is bright red when she looks up, and Kacey’s staring at her. 

“No,” Kacey says, like she doesn’t understand, and maybe she really doesn’t. 

“No,” Marie says, “just, I’m sorry. For calling you like that but for everything else too. Hurting you really is the last thing I wanted to do. That. probably sounds like bullshit, but it’s true.”

Kacey shoves her hands in her pockets. Marie’s are shaking, but for the first time in years—God, it’s really been _years_ — she wants to reach for Kacey, to comfort her. 

“I’m not asking for anything,” Marie says, “I just felt like I should say it. I know it’s way too late. But it’s an apology. You...deserved better.”

“I did,” Kacey agrees firmly. 

She stands there like she’s waiting for something else. Marie wants badly to give it to her, then remembers the other girl, and isn’t sure what to say, or what Kacey wants to hear. It’s dark, so she can’t see much of Kacey’s face and she’s glad for that. 

“I won’t call you again,” Marie says. She turns to go feeling better than she expected, having said her part. It’s not enough, not really, but it feels good, like maybe she can heal, if she feels like Kacey knows that she regrets it. It’s the tip of the iceberg, as far as Marie’s regrets, but it’s something. She barely takes a step before Kacey stops her. 

“Marie,” she says, and Marie turns back to her a bit, just over her shoulder. Facing Kacey again feels daunting somehow. It never did before, but Kacey’s the strong one tonight. 

“I didn’t delete your number,” Kacey says gently. 

Marie did. She doesn’t say so, because it doesn’t matter. 

“Goodnight,” she says instead, and this time Kacey lets her go. 

-

Marie tries to forget about it. In all reality it’s not that hard. She’s training essentially every day and the playoffs are coming and then they’re upon her, and Montreal breezes past Markham in the first round. She gets to revel in that for thirty minutes, surrounded by a happy, cheerful locker room, before she remembers that means she’s facing Kacey in the next round. 

Jill is sitting next to her on the bus when she realizes it, and, true to Jill form, says exactly the wrong thing. 

“Worried about Calgary?”

It’s a chirp, maybe. Marie can never tell with Jill, and she can feel herself tensing up. 

“No,” she says defensively. 

“No,” Jill says, “I mean, we’ve beaten them before.”

Marie says nothing. She chomps on her gum and looks out the window. Jill twists to face her and Marie feels studied. 

“I guess I should tell you Kacey’s single now,” Jill says, and Marie swallows her gum, almost chokes on it. 

“I’m not saying you need to do something about it,” Jill goes on, “I’m just...saying.”

“Uh huh,” Marie says. She doesn’t look at Jill, because she’s bright red and she doesn’t need the chirp. Not to mention she feels as though she’s losing something here, some part of the authority that’s supposed to come with her letter, if Jill sees how much has changed for her because of that one sentence. 

“Why?” Marie asks. In an effort to be casual, she adds, “if you happen to know.”

Jill is silent until Marie caves and looks at her. The expression on her face is absurd, like she knows everything and still can’t take any of it seriously. Marie is a little annoyed that this seems to be funny to her, but she wants an answer. 

“I don’t know the details,” Jill says, “but I’m pretty sure you know why.”

Marie digs her headphones out of her bag and doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride. She doesn’t even put any music on. She can’t stop thinking about Kacey long enough to remember that’s the point of the headphones.

-

Kacey starts, because of course she does. Marie watches her out of the corner of her eye as they line up for puck drop, and when she finally goes head to head with Brianna, she’s braced herself. 

“Keep watching her,” Brianna says, “eyes on the prize.”

Usually Marie doesn’t answer verbally. She’s made a point of winning the faceoffs instead, but she can’t contain herself tonight, she doesn’t know who she is. 

“Fuck you,” she says. 

Brianna laughs. Marie wins the faceoff. Kacey jostles her a few times during the game and Marie doesn’t hold back. She feeksfree did the first time, not angry enough to commit a penalty or too scared to react. She shoves Kacey back when Kacey cross checks her after a whistle in the crease, and she swears that Kacey grins at her before she turns away. 

Playing against Kacey is _fun_ again. 

Of course, losing to Kacey still isn’t. And in the locker room, this time Marie tries to be gentle with them, but it seems like they’d rather her just be quiet. She never knows the right thing to say. Hilary says something she doesn’t hear and that corner of the room erupts in giggles. There’s no medal for Clarkson runners-up. Just bruises and the kind of post-season exhaustion that settles into Marie’s bones for weeks. 

“Get drunk,” she advises them, hoping for the reaction Hilary got, “you’ve earned it.”

The scattered cheer from a handful of teammates is just enough for her to feel like she’s nailed it.

-

The feeling only lasts until they actually go out to get drunk. They disperse as soon as they’re in the door, and Marie isn’t sure where she fits. The anglo group always feels off, like the other half of the team will judge her or like the wrong combination of words is always coming out of her mouth. Besides which, Hilary doesn’t like her, and Marie doesn’t particularly blame her. She’d normally attach herself to Kim and Ann-Sophie, but they’ve got agendas for the night, and Marie doesn’t feel like navigating the awkwardness of turning men down for hours. She just wants to be drunk, but getting drunk alone in your room isn’t exactly acceptable. 

She ends up hovering by the bar and tells herself she’s people-watching. A few people do check in with her, and Johnny stops to talk to her for a few minutes, but her boyfriend is there so that doesn’t last long, and Marie is a little relieved. She knows that Rebecca must know about Kacey. 

She doesn’t see Kacey. By her second drink she’s given up on expecting to see her at all. She’s watching two of the rookies dancing and wondering if it’s going to become a problem when she hears Kacey’s laugh from across the room and her heart leaps. For a moment she’s 22 again, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Kacey in a college bar, weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ bumping into her. Somehow there are a lot more cons now than there were then. 

When she does manage to find her, Kacey is still laughing, nose wrinkled, hiding her smile behind the hand that’s holding her beer. It’s something about the lighting but it’s like Marie is there, like it’s three years ago and it’s a bar in Alaska where nobody knows them and Marie is the one making her laugh, chasing that high, the high of making that smile happen. 

“Fuck,” Marie mumbles, because she already knows her pros and cons list is useless. She waits until Brig and Zoe are talking to make her move, sliding up next to Kacey at the bar with all the help of two shitty beers. Kacey eyes her, but whatever it is she might have said, she swallows it with another sip of her beer. She doesn’t say anything. She waits for Marie to speak, which is new, and terrifying. But Marie is a playmaker. She’s not stupid, she knows where the puck is supposed to go. 

“I’m getting kind of tired of losing to you,” she says, and completely whiffs her shot. 

Kacey smiles, though. It’s small, but it’s definitely there, and Marie can feel it in her fingertips somehow. 

“I’m not getting tired of winning,” Kacey says.

“No,” Marie agrees, “I guess not. Good game. You deserve it.” 

She means all of it, but especially the way Kacey’s shoulders are set, how relaxed she is at a bar she would have been tense and quiet in years ago, how comfortable she looks on the ice. Kacey knows her well enough to know what she means, and she doesn’t make eye contact when she tips her head back and finishes her beer. 

“Did you come here to grovel,” she asks, finally fixing her gaze on Marie, “or are you gonna buy me a drink?”

Marie takes a deep breath. 

“Both,” she says, “I guess.”

“Start with the drink,” Kacey suggests, and she’s smiling again, so Marie does, too. 

-

In a sense, it’s that easy. Over their next drink, Marie watches Kacey thaw out, and it feels better now that Marie knows she’s earned it. She’s sorry and Kacey is on her way to forgiving her, at least enough to have a drink and talk. Not about them, of course, but about Calgary and settling into a new team. About living in Canada and how much she likes it. 

“Everyone was surprised,” she says, “my whole family thought I’d be so, I don’t know. Homesick.”

It’s a little bit on the nose, but Kacey is tipsy and pink faced and she doesn’t mean it. Marie doesn’t say that it surprised her, too. 

“I’m sure living with Brianna helps,” she offers, and Kacey laughs. 

“God,” she says, “I forgot you call her that.”

Marie blushes and tries to hide it, and Kacey giggles but not in a mean way, leaning against the bar. Her fingertips brush against Marie’s forearm, maybe on purpose, maybe not. 

“It’s her name,” Marie mumbles. 

Kacey is quiet, and when Marie looks up their eyes meet again. Kacey’s not smiling anymore. She looks serious, and this time when she touches Marie’s forearm, Marie knows that she meant to. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” she says, and Marie follows her out, even though it’s freezing and everyone can see them go. 

She should be more concerned about that than she is. The truth is, she can’t find it in herself to think about anything but Kacey. Part of her wants to reach for Kacey’s hand, but it’s just an instinct, one she used to bury even when they were together. Kacey doesn’t look at her at first, but she slows so they can walk together. 

“I thought a lot about this,” Kacey says, “what I was gonna say. What I wanted you to say.”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint,” Marie mumbles nervously, but Kacey doesn’t hear her. 

“I still don’t know,” Kacey says. Marie doesn’t ask for clarification. She’s a little drunk and so is Kacey, whose eyes are glinting under the streetlights the way they do when her brain is moving faster than her mouth can. They stop at the end of the block, which really isn’t far enough. Kacey leans against the wall and places her hands on her thighs. Marie stares at Kacey’s hands, and then at Kacey’s thighs, and then at her mouth. She still doesn’t know. Marie does, though. 

“We don’t have to talk,” she says. 

Kacey’s gaze drops to Marie’s mouth now. It’s a dance they’ve done before, especially in public, heavy gazes and hands pressed against skin under jackets for just a few seconds. Daring each other to cross the line first and never doing it until they were in private. 

This time Marie does it. She doesn’t let herself think about it too much. She leans in and braces herself with one hand next to Kacey’s shoulder. She’s expecting Kacey to hesitate, but it doesn’t happen like that. Kacey kisses her back immediately, like they never missed a beat, like she’s not afraid of anything. When Marie doesn’t pull away right away, Kacey reaches up and cups Marie’s face in her freezing hands. 

When she does finally break the kiss, it’s only a moment with their breaths mingling before Kacey pulls her back in. Marie can taste the beer on Kacey’s breath and it’s all so familiar, the weight of Kacey’s hands and the way Kacey makes that quiet sound against her mouth, that Marie has trouble remembering where and when they are. 

When she does remember she gets a spike of panic so strong that she breaks the kiss again. Kacey looks confused until she doesn’t, until she drops her hands to her sides again. 

“Worlds,” she says. 

“I know,” Marie says. 

Kacey sighs and straightens up. She smooths her jacket down even though Marie never touched her. Marie’s nervous again, realizing that the only time she _wasn’t_ was with her mouth on Kacey’s. She shoves her hands into her pockets and licks her lips until she can’t taste Kacey anymore. 

“Do you still want—?” she doesn’t finish the question because she’s not sure what she means. Kacey won’t look at her. She’s looking down the street, at the door to the bar, and Marie wonders if either of them had teammates back that way that might have seen them, and how she’s supposed to make herself care. 

“Ask me after Worlds,” Kacey replies. 

She walks away and Marie doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to follow. Watching Kacey leave feels especially strange to her, until she realizes that she’s been the one to walk away every time until now. She wonders if this is what Kacey felt- the weight in chest of not knowing and the fear that she’ll wait until after Worlds and Kacey will be over it by then. And then, once Kacey is out of sight and she can head back to the bar herself, she figures that she deserves that. 

-

It becomes fairly clear over the next week who saw or heard about it and who didn’t. Johnny is her roommate in Finland, and everything is awkward until she finally brings it up. 

“So, Kacey,” she says. Marie can feel herself turning pink so she focuses on unpacking her suitcase. 

“I dunno,” she says. 

“You better know,” Johnny says, and Marie looks up, startled. Johnny’s never spoken like that to her before, she’s pretty sure, and it’s a little weird. When they make eye contact she can tell that Johnny feels it too, because she shrugs like maybe she didn’t totally mean it, but Marie knows better. Everyone loves Kacey. She can count the people who don’t on one hand, even on her own team. 

“I meant that I don’t know what she’s thinking,” Marie clarifies, doing her best not to sound too defensive. 

Rebecca looks like she’s not sure she believes it, but she doesn’t say so. Instead she sits on the edge of her bed and watches Marie unpack for a few long seconds. 

“I didn’t expect to like her so much,” Rebecca says. 

“Me either,” Marie replies, laughing in exasperation. 

“We all made so much fun of you,” Johnny says, “I had no idea she was so...I don’t know.”

Marie doesn’t have anything to say to that. She doesn’t want to get started talking about Kacey because she knows she’ll never stop. She closes her suitcase and wishes she had something else to do with her hands. 

“She really cares about you,” Johnny says, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that about anyone.”

“I know,” Marie says. A year ago she would have wanted to add, _it’s a lot_. It doesn’t feel like too much anymore. She feels unbelievably lucky, the same way she felt the first time she stepped on the ice with the Maple Leaf on her chest, like she can’t believe that this life is hers.

“I’m talking to her after,” Marie says, “it was her idea to wait until after the tournament. So I’m waiting.”

It’s the first time she can ever remember wanting a tournament to be over. 

-

They win the preliminary round game against the USA, which makes everything worse. It was close, not particularly convincing, but now there’s all these expectations. Marie didn’t score. She had an assist, she’s pretty sure, but she doesn’t want to look at the stats. 

“Don’t get cocky,” she tells them after the game. She can tell that they hate her for saying it instead of praising them, but she’s afraid that if she’s too pleased they’ll relax. And they can’t afford to relax. 

She leaves the room Team Canada’s Most Hated for what feels like the thousandth time and lays in bed awake for an extra hour wondering if a championship would even be worth it. 

-

It is, sort of. 

Late in the third, down a goal, Team USA pulls their goalie. They take a timeout and the team turns to Marie, who, for the first time in her life with the C, knows exactly what she wants to say. 

“Don’t push too hard for the empty netter,” she says, “that’s what they’re hoping for. They’re hoping we’ll get sloppy because we want to hit the empty net. Don’t fall for it. It’s a penalty kill, treat it like one.”

So they do. Kacey is on the ice, of course. They have her set up at the point, and Marie spends ten full seconds afraid that Kacey’s will be the shot that ties the game. But then she reminds herself that it doesn’t matter. A goal is a goal. And she can score one, too. 

She doesn’t, though. She blocks a shot—not Kacey’s, but she drops to one knee and takes one hard off the chest—and the bounce springs Natalie. Kacey is there, a half a step behind, and if there were a goalie she would have been able to make the play, but all Natalie needs to do is fling it down the ice, and she does. 

4-2. It’s the first time Marie can ever remember an empty net goal in a gold medal game. Natalie knocks her over when they celebrate the goal, then hauls her back to her feet and hugs her a second time. Somehow it still doesn’t register until the buzzer sounds, and when her teammates swarm the ice, it is worth it. Them hating her all week is worth it because when they win, everybody loves her. 

She still looks for Kacey across the ice. She knows she always will. 

Kacey looks okay, actually. She’s comforting a kid that Marie doesn’t recognize. She loses track because people keep hugging her, and she’s bewildered when she realizes this is her first gold with the C on her chest. Not that people hadn’t hugged her before, but it’s different. It feels different. Mostly it’s a relief. 

In the handshake line, Kacey grips her worst instead of her hand, and pulls her in so that they’re cheer to chest. 

“Congrats,” Kacey says, and she really means it, Marie can feel it. 

“Good game,” Marie murmurs, and she catches the slightest of a smile before Kacey moves on. 

-

There’s so much to do postgame, and Marie starts to get antsy. She doesn’t mind the publicity but she wants to catch up with Kacey, and she doesn’t feel _that_ bad for rushing through interviews. She knows there will be more. When she checks her phone, there’s nothing, so she forces herself to text Kacey before she chickens out. All it takes is reminding herself of what Rebecca has said earlier in the week. 

It had all been present tense. 

‘can I see you?’ she texts, and Kacey answers her before she can even leave the rink, telling her to meet her at the hotel bar. She goes straight there, only stopping to brush her hair and apple deodorant for the third time since the game ended, but she hesitates outside, long enough for the cold air to hurt her throat. 

Kacey’s waiting for her inside. She looks good, but tired, something about the slope of her shoulders in her soft sweater that says she wants to sleep for a week. Marie doesn’t blame her, she feels the same. It’s been a hell of a year. 

“Hey,” she says, and Kacey looks up as she sits down, smiling but not with her teeth. 

“Good game,” Marie says again. 

“It was,” Kacey agrees, “it was a good season. But I’m ready for the offseason. I need a break.”

“Yeah,” Marie agrees. 

They used to go on vacation this time of year. As soon as the season would end, just the two of them, somewhere people wouldn’t recognize them. And Marie still wouldn’t touch Kacey in public. She feels sick over it now. She’s caught up in her thoughts, hoping Kacey isn’t remembering the same thing, when Kacey speaks again. 

“I did miss you,” Kacey says, “being busy helped. Winning helped. But it’s not like it went away.”

Marie is a little glad to hear it. She doesn’t like the idea of making Kacey sad, but the idea that Kacey has always wanted this—it’s comforting. It makes it easier for her to speak. 

“It didn’t go away for me either,” she admits. She can’t count the number of nights she spent unable to sleep, thinking about Kacey, worrying about Kacey, hating herself for leaving Kacey, hating Kacey for wanting her so badly. 

“It drove me crazy,” she says, “I wanted to be right. But I wasn’t. Just scared.”

Kacey is staring off into the middle distance now, and Marie wonders what she’s remembering. 

“You were a kid,” Kacey says, “and everyone was asking for something.”

“Everyone still does,” Marie says, “and I’m still not good at saying no.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Kacey jokes, but Marie shakes her head. 

“Nobody asked me for this,” she says. “This is for me.”

It was the right thing to say. Kacey’s expression changes, and she turns her head to hide it from Marie. 

“You know,” she says, “we don’t have to talk.”

Marie can feel her heartbeat in the backs of her hands. She wants Kacey, but she wants _all_ of Kacey. She wants Kacey to take her back, but she can’t ask for that, not after everything. Every second she understands more and more  
how she made Kacey feel. She’s unsure and terrified until Kacey reaches over and takes her hand.

“I don’t really have anything left to say,” Kacey says. “And I feel like you already know. I don’t think I’ll ever be any good with anyone else.”

“Me either,” Marie says, swallowing the lump in her throat, “and I don’t want to try.”

Kacey grins at her, and it starts as a soft smile but it grows until she can’t contain it and then there’s the toothy smile Marie remembers, and she’s grinning back and the urge to kiss Kacey is too strong to resist. She used to resist it anyway. This time she leans in and presses a kiss to Kacey’s cheek. 

“What are our friends going to say?” Kacey wonders out loud. Marie lingers, kissing Kacey’s cheek again and then a third time. 

“We don’t have to talk,” she says. 

-

Kacey takes her upstairs. Marie holds her hand the entire way. She can think of hundreds of times she should have done it like this, opportunities where she could have made it clear to everyone that they were together, and maybe they’re in Finland and it doesn’t really count, but it has to count for _something_. She even holds Kacey’s hand in the elevator, and she’s surprised when Kacey kisses her, pressing her back into the wall. 

The door opens with Kacey’s mouth still on hers, and there’s a couple waiting that sees it all. Marie can feel herself turn red, but she’s not scared, and that fact alone makes her feel giddy enough that she’s giggling along with Kacey when they duck into the hallway. 

“Whoops,” Kacey says. She fumbles with her door key until Marie laughs and judges her aside and takes the key out of Kacey’s hand to slot it into the door herself. She’s nervous and shaking when the door closes behind them, but the second that Kacey kisses her again everything else goes away.

Kacey cups Marie’s face in her hands, and Marie backs her gently into the door. She realizes she was always holding back or trying to pride a point, and for the first time ever she’s not trying to plan what she wants to do next. She’s not thinking about it. She’s not thinking about anything. 

Kacey breaks the kiss to breathe, and Marie nudges her nose, dropping her hands to Kacey’s waist and slipping her index fingers into Kacey’s belt loops. When Kacey kisses her again, Marie slides her hands under Kacey’s shirt and rests them just above her jeans, brushing her thumbs against Kacey’s skin. She’s missed this. Nothing else was ever close to this, nobody else she’d touched. Kacey arches off of the door into Marie’s hands, and Marie bites down gently on Kacey’s lower lip. 

“Take me to bed,” Kacey says, and Marie pulls back, taking a step away. She pulls her shirt over her head and Kacey does the same. Marie takes in Kacey’s lean stomach and the stupid Team USA tattoo and feels the fondness swell in her chest. She reaches for Kacey again and pushes her gently back towards the bed, and Kacey sinks down onto it, moving to the center of the bed. Marie steps up and reaches down, gripping Kacey’s thighs and pulling her back to the edge of the bed. Kacey exhales audibly and Marie hesitates, just to enjoy that moment, standing between Kacey’s knees. 

She places one hand on Kacey’s stomach, then slides it up over her bra. Kacey bites her lips, reaching down to cover Marie’s other hand on her thigh. When Marie slides her hand down into the cup of Kacey’s bra, Kacey closes her eyes, and Marie watches the expression on Kacey’s face when she rolls Kacey’s nipple between her knuckles, and it’s better than she remembered, the way Kacey’s eyebrows knit together and her mouth falls open. Marie does the same on the other side until Kacey shifts her hips against the bed. Marie wishes she’d turned the light on, because she knows that Kacey is turning red. 

“Take it off,” Marie says, and she can hear how her voice has gotten thick. Kacey scrambles to do it, reaching around behind her to unclasp her bra and tossing it away. Marie bends down and cranes her neck to get her mouth on Kacey’s breasts, and Kacey makes a quiet, desperate sound. When Marie stands up again, Kacey whines, opening her eyes. Marie pops open the button of Kacey’s jeans and slips her hand down the front, into Kacey’s underwear. 

Now it’s her turn to groan. 

“You’re so wet,” Marie mumbles, and Kacey grabs her wrist, holding her hand in place, rocking her hips against the pressure. Marie lets her for a moment, her jaw dropping, and then she regains her composure and pulls her hand back. Kacey gives her a significant look, but Marie pulls Kacey’s jeans over her hips and then steps out of hers, and in seconds Kacey is in the center of the bed and Marie is on top of her, kissing her, working a thigh between Kacey’s legs. 

Kacey’s underwear are pushed aside and she’s rocking against Marie’s thigh, and Marie knows her well enough after all this time that she _knows_ Kacey can get off like this. Part of her wants that, wants to see Kacey come apart under her before she’s ready, but she sits up on her knees instead and pulls Kacey’s underwear off completely. Kacey reaches for her, expecting Marie to kiss her, but instead Marie slides down along the end and hikes Kacey’s knees up over her shoulders. 

Kacey is already moaning before Marie even touches her. She exhales and Kacey trembles, reaching down and threading her hands into Marie’s hair. When Marie finally pulls Kacey to her mouth, Kacey throws her head back and holds on. Marie mouths against her until she’s shaking again, until she knows Kacey’s close, and then she cups her chin in her hand and adds her fingers into the mid. Kacey comes immediately and hard, digging her heels into Marie’s upper back and tugging her hair until she lifts her head. She stays there for a while, watching Kacey’s legs shake, until Kacey touches her cheek and pulls her up into a messy kiss. 

Marie has barely gotten her breath back before Kacey flips them over. She stares for a few seconds, and Marie doesn’t shy away from it. When Kacey kisses her again, Marie holds her by the hips, and she hates that she has to move to let Kacey take off her jeans and underwear. She struggles with her own sports bra for a second or two, enough that they’re both quietly laughing. It feels like they were never apart, like they never missed a beat, and Marie is distracted by that when Kacey’s hand slides between her legs. 

Getting Kacey off always got her worked up. Kacey still seems surprised, enough that she grins against Marie’s mouth. Marie skates her palms along Kacey’s back, and Kacey teases, just stroking with her fingertips until Marie can’t help herself and wriggles beneath her, trying to get Kacey’s fingers where she wants them without asking. It’s been a long time for her, longer than it’s been for Kacey, almost definitely. She’s not like this with herself, either; when she gets herself off it’s as efficient as possible, like brushing her teeth. 

She wants Kacey to be able to take her time but she’s not sure she’ll make it. Admitting that is briefly embarrassing before Kacey kisses her jaw and speaks again. 

“You’re okay,” she says, because of course she knows. She knows Marie better than anyone. It’s vastly comforting, enough that Marie exhales and reaches up to cup the back of Kacey’s head in her hand. Kacey kisses her neck and it’s all so gentle that Marie lasts longer than she expected with Kacey’s fingertips making consistent, deft circles against her. It was always like this—she remembers it now. She had never actually known that was special, particular to Kacey, to the way Kacey touches her. She knows now. 

When she does come they’re curled up into each other, one of Marie’s legs hooked around one of Kacey’s thighs, Kacey’s face pressed into her neck. She’s trapped Kacey’s hand between her legs, and Kacey doesn’t even try to pull away. When Marie opens her eyes Kacey has lifted her head and is watching her tenderly, and Marie isn’t embarrassed or scared. She’s consumed with an overwhelming wave of fondness, so that it’s all she can do to put her arms around Kacey and pull her as close as possible. Kacey settles back against her, smiling against her jaw. 

Marie almost says ‘I love you.’ Instead she says, “If you requested a trade to Montreal, they’d do it.”

Kacey doesn’t say anything. She trails her fingers along Marie’s bicep and waits. 

“We need you,” Marie says. It’s true. They’d be on another level with someone like Kacey to lock down their D core. 

“Hmm,” Kacey says. Marie closes her eyes again and turns so she can press her lips against the crown of Kacey’s head. 

“I need you,” she says. 

That seems to be better. Kacey lifts her head to kiss her, but she still hasn’t said anything and Marie is terrified that she’s wrong to think Kacey might even want that anymore.

“Kace,” she says, “I missed you. And—I love you. And I want this. I know I should have asked you years ago, but...I’m asking now.”

Kacey kisses her again before she answers, and Marie feels bad for being stiff but she’s still so scared. That lasts until she opens her eyes again and sees how Kacey is looking at her. 

“I love you too,” Kacey says.


End file.
